


Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages

by narcissablaxk



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Humor, Love Languages, M/M, Mentions of Smiggy, Robby/Johnny reconciliation, Romance, lawrusso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Johnny couldn’t explain how it had come to this. It was bad enough that he was sitting here, on the edge of the parking lot outside of Cobra Kai, staring down into a can of Coca Cola, with Miguel on the other side, looking at him furtively out of his peripherals like Johnny couldn’t see him doing it. It was worse that they were currently discussing Johnny’s latest and possibly worst epiphany to date.“So you have a crush on your greatest rival, there have been tons of movies about that,” Miguel said bracingly, turning his gaze completely out to the parking lot.OrJohnny tries to get Daniel's attention through implementing the five love languages.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 107
Kudos: 813





	1. Quality Time

Johnny couldn’t explain how it had come to this. It was bad enough that he was sitting here, on the edge of the parking lot outside of Cobra Kai, staring down into a can of Coca Cola, with Miguel on the other side, looking at him furtively out of his peripherals like Johnny couldn’t see him doing it. It was worse that they were currently discussing Johnny’s latest and possibly worst epiphany to date. 

“So you have a crush on your greatest rival, there have been tons of movies about that,” Miguel said bracingly, turning his gaze completely out to the parking lot. 

Johnny grimaced, his grip tightening on the can of soda. “I don’t have a crush, Diaz, shit, you make me sound like a high school girl.” 

“Oh, sorry, should I have said that you’re _in love with_ –”

“Not if you want to keep all of your teeth.” 

Miguel laughed in that nervous way he did when he was pretty sure Johnny was bluffing, but he didn’t want to push it. Johnny couldn’t bring himself to look over at the kid to read his face – he could feel that his face was warm, and as long as he kept looking out over the parking lot, he could claim it was a sunburn. People got sunburned in California, after all. It was a worthy excuse. 

After a long bout of silence, Miguel cleared his throat and tried again. “Have you considered telling him how you feel?” 

In fact, yes, Johnny had considered that, if only for a fraction of a second before he realized how stupid it was. What would Daniel say, anyway? He could map out the sequence of events with no trouble: Johnny would try to tell him the truth, and Daniel would laugh, not believe him, and get angry with him for trying to pull some sort of ill-conceived joke on him. Johnny would get embarrassed, and the conversation would end the way it had began – with them angry at each other. 

“That’s a stupid idea, Diaz.” 

Miguel sighed. “What’s stupid is trying to bottle up your feelings. What if he feels the same way?” 

Johnny almost laughed. “He doesn’t.” 

“You told me I should never take no for an answer,” Miguel pointed out. 

“That was when I thought you were talking about some random babe, not LaRusso’s kid,” Johnny mumbled. “It’s not the same.” 

“Why isn’t it the same?” Miguel asked, and Johnny could feel him turning his knees toward him, trying to face him completely. 

“You can pursue other random babes if one doesn’t like you,” Johnny said after fishing for the right words. 

Miguel scrunched up his face, trying to read between the lines. Johnny could practically see the gears in his head turning. “So…what you’re saying is ‘not taking no for an answer’ works with people you kind-of-sort-of like, because you won’t get your feelings hurt if they say no. And that same strategy won’t work with someone you love because their rejection will hurt more.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying –”

“Have you tried maybe hinting that you like him?” Miguel interrupted. “See if he picks up on it?” 

Johnny tilted his head, finally catching Miguel’s concerned, serious gaze. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, try being nice to him –”

“That’s ridiculous –”

“ _Okayyyyy_ ,” Miguel said, trying to hide his smile behind his hand. “Have you heard of the five love languages?” 

Johnny squinted. “There are more than five sex positions, young grasshopper.” 

“No, I –” Miguel groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before trying again. “No, it’s – it’s this thing about how people show their love and receive love differently. Sam showed it to me, we took this test –”

“Your girlfriend made you take a _test_?” 

“It tells you how you most like to receive affection,” Miguel’s face was darkening to pink now at the mention of his girlfriend, but Johnny was trying to ignore it. “There’s uhhhh, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, and receiving gifts.” 

Johnny took a long sip of his now lukewarm soda. “How do you know which one you are?” 

Miguel shrugged. “You could take the test.” 

“I’m not a nerd.” 

“It doesn’t really matter anyway,” Miguel brushed him off. “What matters is what Mr. LaRusso is.” 

“How do I get him to take the test?” Johnny asked. “Show up at his house, put on a disguise, tell him I’m taking surveys?” 

“What? No, Sensei, this isn’t Looney Tunes,” Miguel laughed. “Just…try some of them out. See how he responds.” 

“So just…” Johnny grimaced. “Give him a gift?” 

“Yeah,” Miguel said. “Or try spending some time with him, or do something for him, stuff like that.” 

“I don’t know, Diaz…” 

Miguel turned away and looked out over the parking lot again. “Or you could just pine after your karate rival until you’re old and gray and life has passed you by.” 

“What the hell kind of Lifetime movie crap is that LaRusso girl making you watch?” 

***

Johnny, true to his word, refused to take the love language test. He didn’t have to take the test to know what he liked – he just needed to know how to get it. So, against his better judgment, he found himself writing down the love languages on an old gas station receipt in his apartment and trying to figure out which one to try on LaRusso first. 

He still hadn’t settled on which one when his phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, startling him out of his reverie. 

It was a text from Robby: “Meet at the beach on Saturday? Surfing?” 

He smiled down at the text. He was still struggling with finding ways to connect to his son, but sometimes, things just worked out. 

“Let’s make a day of it,” he texted back. “Bring LaRusso and his kid.” 

“You mean his kids?” 

“Sure, yeah, why not?” 

In record time, his phone was skittering across the counter top, the phone number on the display unknown. Johnny scooped it up and answered. 

“Yeah?” 

“What the hell are you planning, Johnny? A replay of our first fight on the beach?” Johnny almost grinned at the sound of LaRusso’s voice. He should have known he would be paranoid. 

“Paranoid, LaRusso?” he asked, and Daniel huffed over the line. “Just trying to be a good example for my kid, you know, like you told me I should be?” 

Daniel didn’t say anything.

“Would it make you feel better if I called it a truce?” Johnny asked, a pit opening up in his stomach the longer Daniel was silent. Did he really believe Johnny was incapable of putting aside their rivalry for his son? 

“What time?” 

Triumph overshadowed the pit in his stomach. “Ten. Bring your surfboard.” 

“My _wha_ –”

***

LaRusso didn’t have a surfboard. That didn’t surprise Johnny – there was no way that he learned to surf in his time in California. He was too busy stealing guy’s girls on the beach and spending time with Mr. Miyagi. Still, he showed up, his two kids in tow, Robby lingering by the Volvo, unhooking his surfboard from the top rack. 

“You actually brought a surfboard,” Daniel remarked, his eyes traveling down Johnny’s short wetsuit. “Like, an actual surfboard.” 

“Some of us are actually from California, LaRusso,” Johnny replied, trying not to check out Daniel’s orange (peach? Pink?) swim trunks. “Want to learn?” 

“Do I have to wear a wetsuit?” Daniel asked, and Johnny could see him squinting behind his sunglasses. 

“You can borrow mine,” Johnny quipped, picking up the surfboard and turning toward the ocean, away from Daniel’s appraising gaze. “Unless you’re scared.” 

“Shut up and get in the water.” 

As if on cue, Robby whooshed past them both toward the water, surfboard under his hand. “Race you!” he shouted back to Johnny, who gave Daniel a proud look. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, taking off toward the water, Robby with a clear head start. Daniel watched him go, brow furrowed, mind struggling to process this borderline-friendly Johnny Lawrence. 

He sat on his towel next to Sam while they surfed, pros in his eyes, since he didn’t really know what good surfing looked like, Robby completely at home, his smile so bright Daniel could see it from where he was sitting, Johnny as at ease on a surfboard as he was in a dojo. 

“Did you know Robby could surf?” Sam asked, looking over at her father from behind her sunglasses. 

“Nope.” 

“I wonder if he’ll teach me,” Anthony said from Sam’s other side, completely hidden underneath their huge beach umbrella, his eyes still trained on his Nintendo Switch. 

“Oh, you don’t want to learn karate but you’ll learn how to surf?” Daniel asked, halfway between irritated and amused. 

“The ocean isn’t going to kick me in the nuts, Dad.” 

“Gross,” Sam grumbled, turning a page in her book. 

Daniel let them bicker, content to watch Johnny and his son surf. There was something peaceful about it, watching a fractured family come together in those small moments, like when Johnny offered Robby a hand back onto his surfboard when he fell off, or when they high-fived for seemingly no reason at all. He was reminded of Miyagi telling him about plants in his garden that simply bloom later than others. 

“Doesn’t make them wrong, Daniel-san,” Miyagi had said, refilling his water can. “Just different.” 

“LaRusso,” Johnny’s voice shook him out of his memory, and suddenly he was standing in front of him, dripping wet, wetsuit far too tight for Daniel’s own comfort level, sticking to abs that Johnny had no right having, not with the amount of beer he consumed on a daily basis. “Come on, your turn.” 

“I – I don’t know, Johnny –”

“I’m not going to throw you to the sharks, LaRusso, trust me.” 

There was something plaintive in the way he said _“trust me,”_ the brought Daniel up short. They didn’t say things like that to each other; they didn’t say much to each other that wasn’t an insult. And yet, here they were, Johnny with an outstretched hand, water dripping down his tanned body, looking every bit a 90210 character, his eyes somehow still soft and a little bit uncertain. 

“Fine,” Daniel grumbled, allowing Johnny to pull him to his feet. “But no laughing.” 

“I promise nothing,” Johnny grinned, and it was a genuine, giddy smile, one that Daniel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on Johnny’s face before. It was almost childlike, sunny in its intensity. 

It made him smile too. 

***

Apparently Anthony really did want to learn to surf, and Daniel found himself in the water beside his son, Johnny and Robby their respective teachers. Johnny had, so far, only taught Daniel how to straddle the surfboard so that he wouldn’t fall off, and was currently at the head of the surfboard, standing in the chest deep water, watching Anthony try to do the same thing. 

“You have to find your balance,” Robby was saying exasperatedly, but he was clearly trying to suppress his own smile. “You can’t just expect it to find you.” 

“It’s just sitting!” Anthony complained, shoving his wet hair out of his eyes. “How hard could it be?” 

Johnny huffed a laugh and turned back to Daniel. “I’m going to let go of the board, LaRusso, think you can stay on?” 

“I’ve used pool floaties before, Johnny,” Daniel retorted, and Johnny smirked knowingly. 

Well, _that_ made him nervous. 

“Okay, genius, here you go,” he said, releasing the board just as a wave gently rocked it, and Daniel had to lurch forward to grab the edges to keep from slipping right off. 

“Tighten your legs, LaRusso,” Johnny said nonchalantly, and Daniel felt his face go hot. 

“I don’t – I – what?” 

Johnny’s hands gripped the surfboard again. He caught Daniel’s gaze and released it to take in the deep blush that had spread over his face and all the way to his ears. “I said, _tighten your legs_ so you don’t fall off.” He peeled his eyes away from Daniel to find another wave coming. “Try it again.” 

“No, Johnny don’t –” But his hands were already leaving the board, and the wave jostled the board sharply, this wave bigger than the one before. Daniel tightened his legs, the same way his weird cousin told him to do when he rode a horse on an ill-fated business retreat, and closed his eyes, waiting to slip off the board and into the water. 

And then the board mellowed out, and Daniel was still on it. 

He opened his eyes to find Johnny beaming up at him, eyes the same color as the ocean beneath him, water running down his face like it was trying to trace his skin in gold. 

“Good job, LaRusso,” he said, and Daniel could faintly hear the sound of Anthony spluttering in the distance. “Now let’s try it on your knees.” 

“On my what?” 

***

By the time the sun went down, Daniel had learned how to stand up on a surfboard, much to Johnny’s very infectious glee. He couldn’t actually surf on it yet, the standing was hard enough, but he still felt immensely accomplished. He imagined part of that had to do with Johnny’s proud smile. 

He understood, in those little in-between moments, when Johnny would tell him how to keep his balance, when he would cheer in the wake of Daniel’s very simple success, why he was such a good sensei. His enthusiasm was catching, and there was a childlike enjoyment that made the day feel more momentous, the whole thing felt very special. 

Sunset found them leaning against Johnny’s car, a beer in their hands, the salt drying on their skin. 

“This was fun,” Daniel said into the comfortable silence. 

Johnny, beside him, jerked his head around to look at him. He looked thrilled, like Daniel had given him much better news than just that he enjoyed himself. That was curious. 

“Really?” he asked, looking so much like a puppy that Daniel didn’t mind reassuring him. 

“Yeah, really,” he insisted. “I don’t think I’m a very good surfer –”

“Everything takes practice, LaRusso,” Johnny interrupted smoothly, taking a sip of his beer. He was still smiling. 

“Then why don’t you teach me again next weekend?” Daniel asked. 

Johnny blinked. “You mean – you want to do this again?” 

Daniel shrugged. “I mean…if you want to.” 

“Yes,” Johnny said, a little too quickly. “I mean, yeah, I guess, if you want.” 

“Good,” Daniel smiled, turning back to the ocean, trying not to notice Johnny’s eyes on him. “Next weekend then.”


	2. Acts of Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny dedicates himself to proving to Daniel he had nothing to do with the vandalism of Miyagi-do. Things get...wet.

Johnny felt like he’d been living in Groundhog’s Day. Every day he woke up, and it still wasn’t the weekend yet. He was constantly tapping his foot, jumping his leg up and down under the table, as if willing time to speed up. He wasn’t used to feeling so jittery about something – Miguel commented knowingly that Sensei Lawrence had overdosed on caffeine when he fidgeted too much during training. 

He got some extra push ups for that, not that he minded, the little twerp. 

And then, suddenly, it was Saturday morning, and he was jogging out to his car, keys jangling like his nerves, trying not to think about how eager he was to get to the beach. This time they would be without Robby, without Anthony, alone in the ocean. 

Maybe Diaz had a point with his little love language thingy. 

At least, that’s what he thought at ten in the morning. By noon, he was pretty sure the love languages thing was bullshit, because he was still waiting for Daniel to show up, and he was about to admit to himself and his stubborn pride that he wasn’t coming. He scoffed, pushing himself off the hood of his car and into the driver’s seat, trying to stifle the ripple of disappointment that ached a little like embarrassment. 

He was a high school kid again, playing games with the pretty girl and hoping she knew the rules. Except this time, he was the one who didn’t know the rules. 

He grabbed his phone from the cupholder beneath the radio where he’d left it to keep the sand and salt out of it. He almost didn’t look at it. What would he find there, but another avenue to hurt his feelings? Daniel probably hadn’t called.

He sighed and pressed the top button. There were five missed calls on it, and a text from Robby. 

“CALL ME NOW,” it said. 

He obeyed the text message, thinking ironically that whatever shit was about to hit the fan would at least distract him from Daniel LaRusso. 

“What the _hell_ did you do?” Robby’s voice was hoarse, tired, like he’d been yelling for a while already. Johnny’s hand twitched around his keys, itching to turn them in the ignition, to find his son, find the problem. He stuck his hand under his thigh and forced himself to stay still.

“What did _I_ do?” Johnny repeated. “You’ll have to be more specific.” 

He could hear something in the background, deep sounds of wood hitting wood, and running water. “Cobra Kai never dies, right?” Robby sneered. “Isn’t that what you say?” 

“Yeah…” Johnny trailed off, trying to put together too few available pieces of the puzzle. “Look, I don’t know what –”

“Cobra Kais trashed Miyagi-do last night,” Robby spat.

Suddenly, Daniel’s absence made sense. “Send me the address,” he said firmly, speaking over Robby when he could hear his son preparing to deliver another painful blow. _“Now.”_

***

He could see the devastation before he even got out of the car. “Cobra Kai Never Dies” seared into his vision from the side of LaRusso’s favorite yellow vintage car, black and stark and painful to look at. He grimaced, shoving the door of his car open and listening for the approach. 

It didn’t take long for Daniel to find him. 

“Get the hell out of here, Johnny,” he snapped from the porch, and even from a distance, Johnny could see that he was sunburned, sweaty, exhausted. “Before I call the cops.” 

“I didn’t do this,” Johnny answered, holding his hands up in the sign of surrender. “I swear. I would never.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

That hurt more than Johnny thought it would. He blinked and looked down at the worn earth beneath his feet, almost sand. They should have been at the beach right now. They could have been having fun. 

He steeled himself. As much as he didn’t want to, he was going to have to swallow his pride if he wanted to convince Daniel of his innocence. More than that, he wanted to convince Daniel so completely that he would never again believe him capable of something like this. 

Because what man would love someone capable of something like this? Whoever had done this had stomped into Daniel’s sanctuary, his shrine to his dead teacher, and crushed it under their boot without remorse. Even when he was blindingly angry, drunk, miserable, Johnny would have never dared wreak havoc here.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he said. “Just tell me what needs fixing.” 

Daniel took a step down from the porch, eyes intent on Johnny, so sharp that Johnny wanted to flinch away from them. “What?” 

Daniel was itching for a fight, Johnny could see it in his gaze. He wondered if that would make him happy, and considered giving it to him. 

But no, he would be selfish, and deny Daniel their personal brand of intimacy. Let this be a new one. “Let me help,” he said softly. “What do you need me to do?” 

Daniel furrowed his brows, eyes roving over Johnny’s face like he would find the truth in the lines around his eyes. Johnny let him look, content to suffer under his gaze, waiting to be sent away. 

“You really didn’t do this?” He wanted to believe him, Johnny could see in the sad downturn of his mouth. 

“LaRusso, if I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t resort to vandalism,” Johnny replied, tilting his head, giving Daniel a genuine smile instead of his typical smirk. “This has teenage kid written all over it.” Then, without thinking, he blurted, “We aren’t teenagers anymore.” 

Daniel clenched his jaw, the bunched muscles protruding from the pressure. “You’re right, we aren’t.” 

***

Taking Johnny through the back gate brought the initial shock back; Daniel could see the wreckage as if through his eyes – the broken pots and tipped over plants, the shredded punching bag, the toilet paper all over the trees, the spray paint. He had been trying to clear it up for three hours, at least, and it still looked like he hadn’t even started. It almost made him turn around and leave – though what he would do when he left, Daniel couldn’t tell. He was stuck between wanting to fix everything, put it all back the way Miyagi had it and going to a bar and getting wretchedly drunk. 

“Holy shit,” Johnny breathed beside him. Daniel spared him a glance, enough to see that he was clearly still dressed for the beach, and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t called to tell Johnny he wasn’t coming – that felt like the closest thing to a courtesy he could give him when he saw the dojo. He had stood there, where Johnny was standing now, trying to reconcile the Johnny he had been thinking about against his will all week with the one who was callous enough to send his students to do something like this. 

He didn’t dare hope that Johnny had nothing to do with it, lest he be wrong. 

“Where do you need me, boss?” Johnny asked when Daniel didn’t answer. 

“Uh,” he stammered, looking around the yard. “We really just need to get the trash picked up first.” 

“Cool,” Johnny said, turning away and yanking toilet paper out of the tree beside him. “Go get some water, LaRusso, you look dead on your feet.” 

“I don’t need –”

“You do,” Johnny interrupted, and there was that unfathomable softness again, apparent in the wrinkles around his eyes, in the set of his mouth. “Go get some water, and get some for my kid, too.” 

Daniel stared at him for a moment, trying to replace the hardened, angry face of Johnny Lawrence in his mind with this almost reasonable one. He sighed, feeling his muscles ache with the breath, and nodded. He returned a few minutes later with cold bottles of water, holding them up for the kids to see. He could feel Johnny watching him as he passed them out, cracking his own open and drinking greedily until the bottle was empty. 

When he looked back, Johnny gave him a self-satisfied smirk and kept cleaning. 

Daniel felt like he was being constantly barraged by epiphanies about Johnny Lawrence lately. He remembered keenly the understanding he felt when he stood next to him at his childhood apartment. 

_“A nice house doesn’t mean nice things are going on inside.”_

The words made so many unexplained details about Johnny make sense that Daniel kept catching himself thinking about it weeks after. No wonder Johnny had been so angry as a teenager – no wonder he’d adapted so well to Kreese’s teachings. No wonder karate had always been so important, and such a dire skill to learn. 

Now, he was seeing new facets, like Johnny surfing, still boyish and energetic in the ocean, familiar and knowledgeable in the way Daniel always wanted to be about anything. 

And here he was, slaving away under the hot sun, to prove to Daniel that he hadn’t trashed his dojo. 

Daniel wanted to comment that he didn’t think a rich boy from Encino could work so hard, but he found that he was unwilling to break the easy peace they’d found. Instead, he helped Johnny unhook the punching bag from its hook and carried it inside with him. 

“I can tape it up,” Johnny said, surveying the cuts critically. “That should hold it for a while, depending on how much you wail on this thing daily.” 

Daniel nodded. “I’ll get the tape.” 

He ended up kneeling across from Johnny on the wood floor, his hands holding the different gashes together so Johnny could tape them closed, his hands both careful and sure. 

“I will find out who did this,” Johnny said after a while, peeling another piece of duct tape free. “I didn’t teach them –”

“I know you didn’t,” Daniel interrupted, and he could see Johnny turn his head to see his face more clearly. “No criminal worth his salt would stay to clean up the mess.” 

Johnny chuckled, a genuine laugh under his breath, and Daniel smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever heard that laugh before. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Daniel muttered, ducking his head lower, closer to the punching bag so Johnny couldn’t see it. “I should have.” 

“No,” Johnny muttered, pressing the duct tape into the gash Daniel was holding closed, his fingers brushing over Daniel’s as he secured the tape in place. “I wouldn’t have called me either.” 

Daniel looked up at him, accidentally catching his gaze and holding it. There was a sadness in Johnny’s eyes that Daniel could feel, radiating from him like he was trying to warn him away. He wondered why that was. He could feel the edge of Johnny’s hand, pressed onto the punching bag right near his own, warm and soft. 

“John –”

“Dad,” Sam blurted, trotting up the stairs and into the house. “We need more hands to pick up the statue.” 

Daniel tore his eyes away and found his daughter, face red and hair frazzled. “I’ll be right there,” he said. 

“Let’s go,” Johnny said, picking up the punching bag, his voice a forced replica of his usual tone. “I’ll help you.” 

Daniel was left to gape after him as he carried the heavy bag by himself back to its hook and replaced it. 

***

Johnny couldn’t explain where his strange feeling of hope came from, but once it settled in, he couldn’t shake it. Something about working with Daniel to fix that punching bag, the way they spoke plainly, even if they said it while looking at the punching bag instead of each other, felt important, like Daniel was starting to see him as something other than an immature bully. 

He followed Daniel and Sam to the tipped over statue, where tracks in the grass told him that Robby and Sam had already tried to pick up the statue themselves and stumbled. He could tell just by looking at it that it was too heavy for the kids to pick up by themselves, and maybe even too heavy to himself and Daniel to pick up. 

“Robby, can you get me those two broken fence planks?” he asked. Robby furrowed his brows at him in confusion but didn’t argue, trotting off to grab the planks. 

“What are you thinking?” Daniel asked, stepping closer to him, close enough that Johnny could smell that he was wearing sunscreen. He was reminded, again, of their plans to be at the beach. 

“If we can use those rocks and the planks to get the statue just a few inches off the ground, we can probably get it the rest of the way ourselves,” Johnny said. “I had to do this at a landscaping job I did about ten years ago. Some rich Encino broad –” he caught Sam’s close gaze out of the corner of his eye. “Some rich Encino… _woman_ …insisted that she wanted slabs of marble sticking out of her garden in the back yard, and one of them fell over. I was the only one there, so I had to get creative to get it back up.” 

“You did a landscaping job?” Daniel asked as Johnny passed him a plank. 

“You’re the white-collar guy here, LaRusso,” Johnny remarked, shoving the plank under the statue. “Not me.” 

Daniel didn’t answer him, but mirrored his movements, setting his own plank underneath the statue and looking to Johnny for his cue.

The statue was heavier than he expected, but after a few seconds of struggling, it started to lift off the grass. Daniel huffed a surprised scoff, too out of breath to do anything else, and Johnny grinned at him. 

Robby and Sam slipped in and took hold of the statue, Johnny and Daniel following, and after some clumsy struggling, the statue was upright again and looking as sturdy against the fence as it had before. The kids cheered, high-fiving first each other, and then their fathers. 

“Alright, you two, why don’t you go cool off in the shade and drink some more water?” Daniel said, his eyes landing only momentarily on Johnny. They obliged without argument, trudging off toward the house with heavy feet. 

Johnny could feel Daniel’s eyes on him in the wake of the kids’ absence. He turned away from him and surveyed the garden, far more tranquil than it had been when he arrived. He could hear the running water and the deep sound of the wood chimes that he’d heard when Robby called. 

He could understand, in quiet moments like this, why Daniel was so protective of this place. 

“I want you to try something,” Daniel’s voice broke through his reverie. Johnny turned to see him, a smile just barely quirking his lips upward, his hair tousled and messy from the wind and the work. The sun was starting to sink behind him, leaving gold behind in strands of his hair, his skin supple and dark in the sunlight.

“Is this when you tell me you have weed?” Johnny replied. 

Daniel rolled his eyes and led Johnny to the edge of a pond where a round platform floated in the middle. 

“Torture device?” Johnny asked. 

“Get in the pond, Johnny,” Daniel said, toeing off his own shoes at the edge. 

“Are there fish in there?” Johnny asked, peering in. 

“There aren’t fish in there,” Daniel laughed. 

“Are you sure –?” 

Before he could finish, Daniel had grabbed him around the middle and pulled him into the pond with him. The water was ice cold when he went in, so cold he felt the shock ricochet through his body. And then he felt Daniel’s arms around his middle, just barely releasing so they could find the surface safely, and the cold didn’t matter. 

He broke the surface, spluttering, and found Daniel grinning at him, trying to hold back his laughter. He launched himself in Daniel’s direction, catching him around the shoulders and shoving him into the water, yanking him back up only a moment later, hand tight around Daniel’s upper arm. 

“You don’t want to play that game with me,” Daniel said warningly, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning like a fool. “I’ve been almost-drowning my cousins since I lived in Newark.” 

“I grew up in the ocean, LaRusso, a body of water intent on drowning you without any help,” Johnny retorted, still holding tight to Daniel’s arm. “I think I can handle you.” 

Daniel raised his eyebrows at him, and before Johnny could think of another witty retort, Daniel’s leg was snaking around his and yanking his feet out from under him, sending them both below the surface of the water. 

Beneath the surface, Johnny could see the stones on the bottom of the pond, recently scraped clean of algae, if the little green spots in the cracks of the rocks were any indication. Daniel, beside him, was untangling himself from Johnny’s legs, swimming toward the surface again. Deftly, without any struggle, Johnny waited until he broke the surface, gave him time to take a breath, and wrapped his legs around Daniel’s waist, pulling him back down below again. 

Daniel glared at him, his eyes almost black under the water, and pushed them both to the surface. 

“Okay, okay, time out, we’re actually going to drown each other,” Daniel said, one arm sliding around the small of Johnny’s back to hold him up in the water. 

It wasn’t until Daniel’s hand settled on his hip that Johnny realized he still had his legs hooked around Daniel’s waist. He just assumed Daniel would break free of the hold when he made his way to the surface. 

His surprise must have shown on his face, because he could both hear and feel Daniel chuckle. 

“Thank you,” he said, and if Johnny hadn’t been so close, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. “For today.” 

Johnny didn’t know what to say. Brushing off Daniel’s thanks would feel like he was cheapening what they had accomplished today, which, based on their track record of working together, was unheard of. But he didn’t really feel like what he did required thanks when really all he wanted was to prove to Daniel he hadn’t trashed the dojo. 

And then he remembered one of the love languages that Miguel told him about. 

Acts of service. 

Perhaps this was the one that would work. 

He watched, as if in slow motion, Daniel’s gaze drop to his lips. There was still water running down his face, settling at the point of his chin, dripping in the silence, harmonizing with the chimes at the back door to the house. He could lean in – he moved to unhook his legs from around Daniel’s waist, but Daniel’s arm around him tightened and stilled his movement. 

“Tighten your legs,” Daniel said quietly, the same words Johnny said to him last week, and Johnny’s gaze snapped up to his eyes, deep, soulful brown in the shade, eyelashes still wet. 

He could lean in – he watched Daniel lick his lips and reached up to grab onto the side of the pond, steadying them both against the side. He leaned in, just a fraction – 

“Dad –”

Immediately, Johnny released Daniel’s waist and moved away, far enough that he bumped against the platform floating in the pond. 

Daniel’s eyes were still on him, dark and unreadable. “Yes, Sam?” 

“Sensei Kreese is here.”


	3. Receiving Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later...

It took him two weeks to get back to Daniel. Those fourteen days were a blur of legal conversations, skimming stacks of papers, finding ways to make sure Kreese’s influence over his students hadn’t warped them beyond recognition. By the end of the first week, Kreese had been removed from Cobra Kai, Johnny had secured the ownership of his dojo, and Hawk had been identified as the ringleader of the vandalism excursion. Johnny sent him with Miguel to return Miyagi’s Medal of Honor to Daniel personally. 

And then Tommy died. 

The second week was like wading through water too deep. He, Bobby, and Jimmy pored over Tommy’s documents, his whole life spread over the small space of a desk. Johnny had no idea how to handle someone’s affairs after they died, and it didn’t seem like Bobby or Jimmy did either. So they spent a few days trying to pack up his stuff, realizing far too late that they had no one to give it to. Most of Tommy’s clothes ended up donated to a local charity, and Bobby took the rest of his stuff to put into storage until they could figure out what to do with it. 

There was no family; no one but them.

The funeral had been a nightmare, the wake a nightmare with booze. He left Cobra Kai alone during that week, confident that Miguel was still making sure Kreese couldn’t sink his hooks into anyone. 

He came home at the end of the second week, bone tired and prepared to sleep for another two days, if given the opportunity, but instead of rest, he found Daniel LaRusso standing on his doorstep. 

“Didn’t you hear?” he called, startling Daniel out of whatever reverie he was in. “I’m not home.” 

Daniel gave him a bracing look that told Johnny someone had already informed him about Tommy’s death. “Miguel told Sam you were coming back today,” he explained. “I thought I’d bring you something.” 

He noticed the package in Daniel’s hand as the words left his mouth. “You don’t have to –”

“It’s customary to send flowers,” Daniel interrupted as Johnny fumbled with his keys in the lock, “but I figured whiskey was more appropriate.” 

Johnny didn’t answer, but pushed his door open and stepped aside to let Daniel through first. The place seemed emptier now that it had been empty for a week, and Johnny wasted no time in grabbing two glasses from his cabinet and holding his hand out for the bottle. 

“Thank you,” Daniel said as Johnny twisted the bottle open, the label cracking in the silence. “For sending Hawk –”

“It was the least he could do,” Johnny answered, pouring a generous amount in each glass. 

“Still,” Daniel took the offered glass and held it up. “To Tommy.” 

Johnny had to swallow past the lump in his throat. He took a sip of the whiskey, the smell alone reminding him of the wake, of acquaintances with casseroles and black suits on squeaky pews. He watched Daniel finish the whole drink in one swallow, his mind trying to find its way back out of the week’s memories. 

“What do you do?” Daniel asked when Johnny didn’t say anything.

“What do you mean?” 

Daniel carefully put his glass in the sink behind Johnny, his arm just barely making contact with Johnny’s jacket. “I mean when something bad happens. What do you do?” 

Johnny held up his glass, whiskey still lingering at the bottom. “You’re looking at it, kid,” he said. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Anything else?” 

Johnny shrugged. Nothing seemed particularly appealing right now, other than standing in his half-dark kitchen, listening to Daniel talk. He took another sip of his whiskey. “Trying to cheer me up, LaRusso?” he asked. 

“Well, you’re certainly not making it easy,” Daniel groused, leaning against the counter. Johnny watched him lean, his worn Mets shirt riding up as he leaned back. How obvious would it be if he told Daniel that this was just fine? 

Or maybe it was that it didn’t really feel right to be having fun so soon after Tommy’s death. Just yesterday he had been hauling Tommy’s old dirt bike into storage, memories washing over him. Today he was considering putting all of that out of his mind for a chance at mild amusement for a few hours. Wasn’t that disrespectful? 

“Come on,” Daniel broke through his thoughts, gently extricating Johnny’s glass from his hand. “We’re going to the beach.” 

“We’re _what_?” 

“You said you were going to teach me how to surf,” Daniel pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, go get your stuff, we’re going to the beach.” 

Johnny huffed a laugh, eyes searching Daniel’s countenance for the punchline. “You’re serious,” he said when he found nothing but sincerity.

“Absolutely serious,” Daniel said, crossing out of the kitchen and back into the living room. “Go get dressed. I mean it. Wetsuit and everything.” 

“I’m not putting on that wetsuit,” Johnny called back on his way to his bedroom. He felt exhaustion seeping into every movement, languid and delayed. He was too tired for this. Still, he grabbed some black trunks from a long-forgotten corner of his drawers and put them on. 

He met Daniel in the living room in a black muscle shirt and black trunks. 

“If I fall asleep in the ocean, you better become a lifeguard,” he warned. 

Daniel smiled, the quirk of his mouth looking more sad than happy. “Something tells me just sitting on your surfboard in the water is going to make you feel better.” 

Johnny shrugged, but unbidden, he remembered spending hours at a time just sitting in the water, his feet submerged, after Ali dumped him, and again after the All Valley in ’84, and then again when his mother died. There was no way LaRusso could know about that, was there? 

He turned away from him to get his surfboard out of the closet in the hallway, his eyes landing on the white bag on the floor as he did. He scooped it up. He had planned something different, but this was as good a time as any. 

“Here,” he said, passing the bag over to Daniel, who looked taken aback. “I noticed yours were looking a little run down,” he continued as Daniel peered inside the bag, his eyes meeting his before he pulled out the little clippers. “You use those on your bonsais, right?” 

“Yeah,” Daniel said softly, looking down at the shears like he didn’t know what to make of them. “I – you – you got these for me?” 

Johnny huffed a laugh. “No, LaRusso, I stole them.” 

“When did you have the time?” He let the stealing line slide by uncontested. 

“The day after I helped you clean up your dojo,” Johnny supplied, grabbing his keys from the counter, leaving Daniel behind, staring down at the gift. 

***

He still couldn’t decide what to make of it when they pulled up at the beach, Johnny dozing lightly in the passenger seat. It had been a battle to convince him not to drive, won only because Daniel threw bungee cords at him and told him to shut up and just strap the surfboard to the roof already. 

The silence of the drive did nothing but allow Daniel the space and quiet to obsess over the little clippers currently sitting in his cup holder. He found his eyes straying to them more often than he’d ever admit. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant. 

When had Johnny even seen his old pair of shears, admittedly rusted and creaky from old age? And why had he taken it upon himself to buy Daniel a new pair? It was a thoughtful gift, sure, but did Johnny do thoughtful gifts? 

He had more questions than answers. 

Along with those questions, he had questions for himself to mirror them. Why had he decided to go by Johnny’s place on the night he was coming home? His condolences could have waited a night. He hadn’t spared a whole lot of time for thinking – Sam had wandered by, thrown out as an afterthought that Miguel mentioned Sensei Lawrence was coming back into town tonight, and then Daniel was up and grabbing his keys before he could examine why. 

Perhaps it was simple curiosity. Johnny had been Kreese’s lackey, his surrogate son, for as long as Daniel had known him. And then, that day at his dojo, he climbed out of the balance pond and faced his mentor, all steely gaze and clenched fists, and told him he wanted nothing to do with him anymore. 

Daniel hadn’t even been given the opportunity to say anything. He just stood there, dripping, eyes wide and mouth half open, while Johnny enumerated all of the reasons he realized Kreese had been behind the vandalism of Miyagi-do. He thought about that afternoon every day while Johnny was gone, first to make sure Kreese couldn’t endanger his students, and then gone to see and bury Tommy. 

He had questions he wanted to ask, thoughts he wanted to say out loud, but now wasn’t the time. There were more important things than Johnny’s allegiance, especially tonight. 

Johnny jerked awake when he put the car in park, his eyes dark in the shadow. Daniel just gave him a momentary smile and pushed the door open, content to let him wake up while he unhooked the surfboard. 

“You aren’t wearing swim trunks,” Johnny pointed out when he finally wrestled the surfboard down. 

“All clothes can get wet,” Daniel shrugged, toeing off his shoes and leaving them behind on the floor of his car. 

Johnny didn’t answer, and Daniel wondered if he was also thinking of their time in the balance pond. How Johnny had definitely leaned in for a kiss before they were interrupted. How Daniel had definitely not stopped him. 

“Who told you about Tommy?” Johnny asked on their walk toward the water, the ocean a gentle giant ahead of them, sparkling in the moonlight. 

“Bobby,” Daniel said, pulling his shirt off and leaving it behind on the sand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Johnny doing the same. “Apparently you talked about me to him.” 

Johnny almost stumbled, a momentary loss of balance that a normal observer wouldn’t have caught, but Daniel carefully noted it and continued. 

“He wanted to warn me that if you came back trying to pick a fight, there was a reason.” 

“Bobby fucking Brown,” Johnny muttered under his breath, the comment almost lost by the sound of the waves. And then he stopped walking. “How does Bobby have your number?” 

Daniel shrugged, trying to read the expression on Johnny’s face from the side. “Maybe you gave it to him.” 

“No, I didn’t,” he said, so sure of himself that Daniel wanted to ask how he knew, why he was so confident that he wasn’t just handing out Daniel’s phone number to other people. 

Bobby had always been the most reasonable of Johnny’s friends, in Daniel’s opinion. He had watched him, from the relative protection of Miyagi’s side, try to defend Johnny the night he lost the All Valley; he had seen him go pale when Kreese shoved him away and tightened his hold around Johnny’s neck. 

“Do you talk to them?” Daniel asked as the water slipped over their feet, a cold and sharp reminder of their reality. “The Cobras?” 

Johnny scoffed at the name, the sound lost by the waves. “I should, shouldn’t I?” he asked, looking over. His eyes were painfully sad. 

“Their numbers are in your phone,” Daniel pointed out, the water rising up to his knees. 

Johnny put the surfboard down in the water and held it in place with one hand. “It’s not that simple, LaRusso.” 

And oh, did Daniel understand him. How many friends did he have that he regularly talked to? None, if he excluded family and his own employees. He had plenty of phone numbers in his contacts, plenty of people who were quick to catch up with him at the club, but were they friends? Would they miss him if he died? He understood that terrible loneliness, and how hard it was to crawl out from under it. 

“I suppose not,” he said, and he could see Johnny looking at him from the corner of his eye, searching for an explanation, a story to go along with his offhand comment. Daniel didn’t give him one. 

“Come on, LaRusso,” he said finally, patting the surfboard. “Up you go.” 

The water was just above waist height, the tide strong enough that it was constantly tilting Daniel off-balance. He heaved himself onto the surfboard as gracefully as possible, feeling at least marginally satisfied with himself when he didn’t immediately fall off. 

“Up you go,” he said, patting the surfboard in front of him. Johnny furrowed his brows, mouth twisting into an amused grimace. “Come on, Johnny, get on the surfboard.” 

“I thought I was teaching _you_ how to surf.” 

“I lied,” Daniel shrugged. “Besides, you’re way too tired for that. Get on the damn surfboard, don’t be a baby.” 

Johnny eyed him curiously, long enough that Daniel almost took back his suggestion, almost abandoned the enterprise altogether. Maybe he had miscalculated – perhaps he had misunderstood Johnny in the balance pond two weeks ago. And then Johnny bit his lip and pulled himself onto the surfboard, hardly jostling Daniel at all, settling on the surfboard with his back to Daniel. 

“You could call them,” Daniel said to Johnny’s back, the sentence flowing out of his mouth with ease now that Johnny wasn’t looking at him. “Your friends.” 

“They all have lives, LaRusso,” Johnny muttered, his feet barely kicking. “Careers, wives, children –”

“You could be a part of it –”

Johnny scoffed, the movement driving his back into Daniel’s chest. “I can barely handle my own career, my own kid.” 

“You don’t have to handle your friends, Johnny.” 

“They’d have to handle me.” 

A wave jostled them and Daniel instinctively wrapped his arms around Johnny’s middle, trying to keep himself on the board. Johnny went still – all the way down to his feet – until the wave passed and the board mellowed out. He took his arms back, making sure to gently remove them, and considered Johnny’s statement. 

He didn’t say anything – Johnny didn’t give him the time. 

“Sometimes it feels like friendship doesn’t exist,” he said into the darkness, his head tilted just barely upward to look at the moon. “We’re just near each other – if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be friends.” 

Daniel couldn’t tell if he was talking about the Cobras or about Daniel himself. 

“I know,” he said. 

“Tommy was sick,” Johnny said, leaning back until he was pressed completely to Daniel’s chest. “I didn’t even know.” 

Daniel let his hands settle around Johnny’s middle, fingers threaded together to keep them together. “Sickness happens.” 

He remembered his father, vivacious and friendly one day, withdrawn and weak the next. The smell of the hospital that seemed to permeate all of his clothes, even down to his skin. The sad way his eyes would look when he turned his wistful gaze to the window near the end. Like he was waiting for it. 

“I could have –”

Daniel held him tighter. “You were there when it mattered.” 

Johnny kicked one foot in the water listlessly. “Every day mattered, LaRusso.” 

Daniel didn’t say anything. He could feel the familiar ache that came with nostalgia, bittersweet and tender. It, along with the warmth of Johnny’s body pressed to his chest, the lulling of the waves, made him feel peculiarly dreamy. 

“How did Bobby get your number?” Johnny asked after a long bout of silence. 

Daniel closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Johnny’s shoulder. “Jealous?” he asked. 

Johnny exhaled a laugh, lost to the sound of the waves. “All the time,” he said. 

“You gave him my number when you were drunk,” Daniel murmured, pulling his head off of Johnny’s shoulder and pulling him farther back, comfortably lounging. “He told me himself.” 

“Why did he really call you?” 

Daniel looked down at him, blond head resting over his heart. “So I could be here when you got back.” 

Johnny shifted, his eyes just barely managing to catch Daniel’s before he looked out over the water again. “Did he tell you about the ocean?” 

Daniel furrowed his brows. “I don’t think so.” 

“How did you know I like being out here when I’m sad?” Johnny asked, turning to see Daniel more completely, his head now on Daniel’s bicep, the surfboard tilting with their weight just enough to make Daniel uncomfortable. 

He sighed. “Because I’m paying attention.” 

They stayed that way for a long time, in comfortable silence, long enough that Daniel felt the moment Johnny drifted off to sleep, head resting on his chest, close to his neck. He let him sleep for an hour or so, holding tightly to him, the wind sending him the smell of the ocean and Johnny’s shampoo, thinking of Bobby Brown and his father and all of the others. 

They drove home in peaceful silence.


	4. Physical Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shocker, we're back at the beach. But this time, there's sparring.

Daniel was starting to associate the beach with Johnny – when he was a teenager, it was impossible to separate his first embarrassing encounter with the man and the backdrop that witnessed it. He didn’t come back to the beach for months after he got kicked into the sand next to Ali’s radio, and even years after that, he always thought he could hear the roar of dirt bikes, Johnny’s irritated whine.

Now, the beach felt like what it must feel like to all native Californians – warm, comforting, familiar. 

The next Saturday was pleasant, a breeze blowing off the sea that shook loose the painful memories of their last visit and left them lingering by the Volvo. When Daniel pulled up, Sam and Robby and Anthony in the car, Johnny’s Challenger was already in the parking lot beside him, the owner’s blond head already in the water. 

He let Robby greet him first, surfboard under his arm and carefree smile on his face. Anthony ambled behind, wary of the ocean and the board but too curious to stay on the sand. Sam pulled out her phone and her towel and made herself comfortable. 

It was nice, watching them all from a distance, knowing that Sam was probably texting Miguel, who had stayed up late last night helping her with physics homework; that Robby had sat Daniel down at the dining room table last night and talked earnestly about moving in with his father; that Johnny was probably looking out at the waves and thinking about Tommy, set to be pulled out of his thoughts by his beaming son. 

He was watching a family stitch themselves together, and he got to help it happen. He wondered if Miyagi ever thought of him that way. 

He sat down next to his daughter and let Robby and Johnny surf, content to observe. Johnny was in his wetsuit again, his hair almost white against the backdrop of the rain clouds that were rolling in from the horizon, dark and ominous but still silent. He could see them laughing, standing steadily on the boards, the resemblance startling even from this distance. 

“Do you think Robby will go live with his dad?” Sam asked, putting her book down over her stomach, page dogeared. 

Daniel turned to his daughter, finding himself in the lines around her eyes. “I think he’d like that,” he hedged. “What do you think?” 

“He told me he wanted to,” Sam said, turning her gaze out to the water. “I think it would be good for them both.” 

“He still hasn’t heard from his mom?” 

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “He doesn’t really talk about her much. He sends her money from his paycheck every two weeks.” 

Daniel pulled his knees in, sitting up straighter. “He sends her money? What does she need money for, in rehab?” 

Sam picked absently at the cover of her book. “He said he wanted to make sure she had enough to get a new place when she got out.” She pulled her hair out of her braid and piled it on top of her head. “He worries about her a lot, you know.” 

“Do you worry about him?” Daniel asked, following her gaze out to the ocean, where Robby was sitting on his surfboard, showing Anthony how to kneel and balance. 

“Don’t you?” Sam replied. When Daniel didn’t answer, she continued, “I’m just glad that you and Sensei Lawrence aren’t fighting anymore.” 

“Because it’s better for Robby?” 

Sam rolled her eyes under her sunglasses. “Because you’re happier, too. All of you are.” 

***

Johnny found him on the sand before Daniel could get up and interrupt his time with Robby. He was flipping through his book _History of Okinawa,_ a yellow bookmark sticking out of the pages over halfway through, eyes aimless on the pages. Clearly his mind was somewhere else. Johnny watched him stare at the same spot on the page and turn once, twice, a third time. He was in different swim trunks this time, yellow with some design on them, just short enough that his bent leg gave Johnny a tantalizing view of tanned thigh, just barely noticeably paler than the rest. 

He swallowed thickly and ran his hands through his wet hair, feeling the excess water run down his back. Behind him, he could hear Robby and Anthony shouting, laughter interspersed with the words. 

“You planning on getting into the water, LaRusso?” Johnny asked, and Daniel jumped so sharply the book fell closed on his lap, his sunglasses falling down his nose. “Or are you just going to pretend like you’re not watching me?” 

Daniel’s eyes shot toward his daughter, who had headphones in and her eyes closed, and then went back to him, a tense line in his jaw trying to hold back his amusement. Johnny could practically feel the intensity of his gaze through the darkened lenses, could imagine the shine in his eyes. 

“I’ll get in the water,” he promised. “In a bit.” 

“Gotta get your suntanning in first, Danielle?” 

He worried as soon as the words left his mouth that Daniel would get all riled up, the way he always did, but Daniel just laughed and bit his lip, nodding like he expected a comment like that. “We can’t all have a surfer’s body, Johnny. Some of us have to compensate with a tan.” 

Johnny froze, halfway to a smile. If he heard correctly – and he was pretty sure he did – Daniel LaRusso just complimented his body. That was, what did Miguel call it? Encouraging. 

But now what was he supposed to say? He lingered between giving Daniel a compliment back (the idea that all Daniel had to offer physically was his tan was ridiculous, and he relished the possibility of spending the time to tell him so) and acknowledging the compliment. Did Daniel even realize what he said? Would calling attention to it make things awkward? 

He had been quiet too long. He met Daniel’s expectant gaze, the other man’s smile slipping from flirtatious to amused the longer he was silent. 

“Shut up and get in the water,” is what he settled on, and Daniel looked mildly triumphant at his response. 

Maddeningly, the man didn’t get up and listen, but settled himself deeper into the reclining chair and said, “Mmm, I don’t think so.” 

“So help me God, LaRusso –”

“What are you gonna do, Johnny?” he asked, pursing his lips to try to keep a straight face. Johnny raised his eyebrows at him. That sounded like a challenge. 

It was easier than he expected to lift Daniel out of the chair and over his shoulder, fireman-style. He felt Daniel’s sunglasses slip off and bounce on his calf on their descent into the sand. 

“John!” he yelped, the admonishment softened by the laugh that snuck out immediately after. “Put me down.” 

“We’re getting in the water,” Johnny said, winking at Sam’s wide-eyed gaze and turning toward the ocean. Robby and Anthony were standing at the edge of the water, watching them with open mouths. 

“You’re going to pull something, old man!” 

“Don’t provoke me, LaRusso,” Johnny retorted, trying to suppress a laugh that would bowl them both over. “I’ll drop you.” 

“That’s precisely what I’m worried about!” 

Despite his verbal protests, Daniel was curiously still, one of his arms wrapped loosely around Johnny’s hips to steady himself, his legs bent to give Johnny something to hold onto. Johnny could feel his thundering heartbeat against his back, and wished suddenly that he was in normal swim trunks so he could feel his skin without a barrier. 

“I’ll save you, Dad!” 

Johnny had a good two second view of Anthony barreling toward him, Robby’s extended arms behind him trying and missing to keep him back, before he tackled him, Daniel’s quick “Anthony, _don’t_ ” loud behind him. 

If he hadn’t been carrying Daniel, he probably could have withstood it, but with Daniel on one shoulder, and Anthony on the other leg, he had to make a choice – go down gracefully or go down ugly. They went down in a heap, Daniel managing to almost catch his balance when Johnny fell, only to stumble and land on his chest, wheezing with laughter. 

Anthony scrambled to his feet, triumphant, and flexed for his adoring audience (Robby, who looked horrified). 

At the same time, Robby and Sam both shouted, “Dad, you okay?” 

Daniel, who was probably used to being called ‘dad’ already, gave his daughter a weak thumbs-up without getting up, sweaty cheek plastered to Johnny’s chest. Johnny didn’t say anything, just stared at his son, who was looking down at him in concern. 

“Johnny,” Daniel pulled himself up to see his face, chin resting on Johnny’s chest while his laughter died down. “You okay?” 

He glanced between Daniel LaRusso and his son, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, and nodded. “Yep, yeah, fine.” 

Daniel exhaled sharply, a relieved sigh, and rested his forehead where his chin had been. Johnny considered putting his arms around him, but before he could, Daniel was pulling himself up, brushing the loose sand from his legs with an easy smile. Johnny watched him get up, content to stay still while Daniel untangled their legs and got to his feet, sandy and tan and altogether painfully pretty in the sunlight. 

Robby offered him a hand on the other side, and Johnny gratefully took it. 

“Have you ever called me Dad?” he muttered, quiet enough that he hoped it escaped Daniel’s notice. 

Robby shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, simple as that. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder only to catch Daniel staring at him. “Just thinking about how I’m going to enact my revenge on that little twerp.” 

“Don’t beat up my son, Johnny,” Daniel laughed. 

Johnny shrugged, making sure to tighten his left fist until it cracked, a remnant of a particularly bad punch from a bar fight fifteen years ago, eyes on Anthony, whose triumphant grin faded into fear. “Then he better start running.” 

“I’ll fight in his place,” Daniel offered, eyebrows raised in challenge. 

Johnny stared at him. “You challenging me to a sparring session, LaRusso?” he asked, breathless. 

Daniel shrugged, and slipped easily into his fighting stance. Johnny watched him do it, unabashedly taking in the sight of tanned, half-naked Daniel LaRusso poised for a fight. Even if it was for fun. He felt like he had a shot of whiskey burning deep in his gut. 

“You’re the boss, LaRusso,” he said, mirroring his stance. 

Robby, behind them, coughed. “Bow,” he instructed. 

Daniel gave him an exasperated smile and obeyed, bowing low and deep, form perfect. Johnny’s own bow was late and aborted, too busy watching Daniel move. 

True to his mantra, Johnny struck first, sending a jab punch that Daniel blocked and returned, only to be blocked in turn. Wax on and wax off or whatever, Johnny thought, stepping back to set up for a crescent kick that Daniel immediately predicted. He ducked out of the way and sent a front kick into Johnny’s chest, knocking him back a step. 

“Point, LaRusso,” Robby said from behind Johnny. 

The two men paused, gazes still locked. “Oh, we’re doing points, huh?” Johnny asked. 

Daniel grinned and shrugged. 

They followed their pattern – block, punch, block, punch, kick – until Johnny caught Daniel’s roundhouse kick and held it with one arm while the other sent a jab to his side. He released Daniel’s leg, making sure to put his free hand gently over his bad knee before moving back to their starting positions. 

Daniel’s eyes on his were wider than before, as if he was figuring something out. 

Johnny let him have the next point, too caught up in the subtle changes in his opponent’s face. He blocked one punch but not the next, and even as Robby called out that it was LaRusso’s point, they didn’t move. 

“You alright?” Daniel asked, eyes concerned. 

“Course I am,” Johnny replied, Daniel’s pulled punch already nothing but a memory against his chest. 

“We can stop,” Daniel was searching his face now, no longer bothering to listen to his mouth. Johnny wondered what his face was saying that his mouth was contradicting. 

“I know,” Johnny reassured him. 

They moved back to their fighting stances. 

***

Daniel decided, as he stepped back into his fighting stance, that he would strike first this time. He wasn’t sure what he was reading in Johnny’s face, but he was fascinated by what he found in his countenance. So the moment Johnny came up from his bow, he started with a switch stance roundhouse kick, one that Johnny barely blocked, his eyes surprised. 

“Okay, LaRusso,” he muttered. “That’s how we’re playing it, now?” 

Daniel didn’t trust himself to answer. He leaned back, out of the reach of Johnny’s crescent kick, and stepped forward for a right hook that Johnny easily blocked, and then a left uppercut, deviating out of karate and into other fighting styles. Johnny leaned out of the way, but his eyes were bright, impressed, and he couldn’t hide the smile that snuck over his face. 

“Boxing, huh?” he asked, raising his fists until they blocked his face, a classic boxing stance. “Full of surprises.” 

“I try,” Daniel replied, switching his stance again, relishing in the way Johnny read and responded immediately. 

He was ready for everything, it seemed. That is, until Daniel blocked a low kick and went to the ground, low enough that Johnny couldn’t stop the scissor kick before it pulled him to the ground. In the rush to scramble back to his feet, Daniel could easily grab him with his legs and yank him back down to the sand, where he got to his own feet and took hold of Johnny’s leg, pressing the knee toward his chest. 

It was a basic grappling move, one that Johnny could have easily gotten out of, but once Daniel pressed his other knee to his unobstructed leg, pinning his lower body in place, Johnny’s options were far shorter. He could try to get his torso off the ground and grapple Daniel to the ground in turn, but – 

Oh hell. 

No matter what he did, Johnny would either be put in a headlock or have to put Daniel in one if he wanted to win. 

Daniel saw, in his quick, hungry assessment of Johnny’s face, the brief flash of buried fear before he could push it down. They both went still, panting, Johnny’s knee against Daniel’s chest, his leg pinned in place at the thigh by Daniel’s knee. 

“Point?” Robby asked. 

Neither of them won. 

They settled on a tie, Daniel absolutely refusing to continue, Johnny not really trying to convince him otherwise. Instead, they tried to shake the sand free from their bodies and failed, Johnny finally pointing out that there was an ocean specifically to fix that problem for them. 

But getting sand-free just to be covered in salt was not appealing to Daniel. 

“There are showers for a reason,” he said. Johnny rolled his eyes. 

“Why do you need a shower when there’s an ocean?” 

In spite of his ribbing, Johnny followed him to the little cabana that held a set of showerheads and bathrooms, shaking sand out of his hair on the way. Daniel watched him go, thinking back to their sparring session. 

There was something important about the way Johnny gently touched his knee before releasing him, like a silent apology. He couldn’t shake it loose, couldn’t forget the burning touch of his hand on his skin, the way it calmed the panic that rose in his throat the moment Johnny caught his leg. Like Johnny understood. 

And wasn’t that the same as Daniel stopping them before they got into headlocks? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He lingered outside the cabana for a moment, taking the time to turn back to the ocean and take a deep breath, the way Miyagi taught him. 

_Stay in the moment, Daniel-san,_ he’d tell him. _Stop overthinking._

By the time he got inside, Johnny had peeled off the top half of his wetsuit and was standing underneath the shower spray, head tilted back, eyes closed. Without the sunlight, without the ocean behind him, Johnny looked like a statue in a museum, a Greek god caught in repose at just the right moment that a sculptor spent months of his life committing to stone forever. 

He let his eyes do the committing, content to drink him in while Johnny’s eyes were closed. 

Except they weren’t anymore – they were shockingly blue and painfully fond, and locked on Daniel. 

Before he could overthink it, he strode forward, fast enough that Johnny looked momentarily frightened, and put his hands on Johnny’s chest, applying gentle pressure until Johnny’s bare back hit the wall, the shower spray falling on them both. 

Johnny didn’t speak, but Daniel could feel his heartbeat beneath his hand. He rubbed his thumb over his heart gently, blinking past the water. 

“Déjà vu,” Johnny said, and Daniel was suddenly fascinated with the way the water was running over his lips and down his chin, almost shining. 

“What?” 

“You know,” Johnny said, shifting against Daniel’s hands. “When you feel like this has happened before –”

“I know what déjà vu is, moron,” Daniel laughed. “I was just…” 

“You were what, LaRusso?” 

“Distracted,” Daniel finished, wondering if Johnny was going to lean in or if he was going to have to. 

And then the door behind them clanged open and the sound of Anthony’s video game filled the echoey room, and Johnny ducked out from under Daniel’s arms to give them negligible space. Daniel’s eyes met his as he stepped out from under the water, gaze burning into his. 

He sighed.


	5. Words of Affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double date? With kids? It's more likely than you think.

Johnny yanked open his closet door, eyes searching the sparse offerings, brow furrowed. Behind him, Miguel shifted his weight onto his other foot, face similarly focused, eyes critically searching the clothes. 

“He knows what kind of clothes you wear, Sensei,” he started hopefully. “I don’t think you need to –”

“So you’re just going to wear whatever, then?” he asked, his tone vaguely snappy, and Miguel pursed his lips. “You and I are both under the microscope, Diaz,” he said, turning back to the closet. “And I am always worse upon closer inspection.” 

“Sensei, don’t be ridiculous,” Miguel reassured, dropping a hand to Johnny’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t like you.” 

Which, fine, Johnny could accept that idea, but that didn’t make him feel any less nervous. It certainly didn’t answer the question of what he should wear to this ill-advised get together that he’d been invited to. He was reminded, far too often, of his first date with Ali, where they spent the whole night dancing around the idea of their first kiss, only to chicken out and then not, ultimately ruining the romance the first kiss deserved. 

In the months following, they laughed about that story like it was charming, but it always seemed weird to Johnny. Even now, years later, that was still an indicator of what overthinking could do, and now that he and LaRusso had been interrupted not once but twice, he had to wonder if the actual act would live up to the anticipation. 

“You and Miguel should come to dinner at my place,” Daniel had said over the phone, the tone of his voice alone telling Johnny that he was smiling. “Robby, Sam, and Anthony will be here.” 

“What, like a –” he caught himself before the word _‘date’_ could come out, but the silence on the other end of the line told him that Daniel was waiting for him to finish the sentence. Stubbornly, he stayed quiet, Miguel, on his couch, looked at him in confusion. 

“Who is it?” he had mouthed, waving his arms to get Johnny’s attention. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, John,” Daniel said into the silence that showed no signs of abating. “Will you come?” 

Johnny snapped his jaw shut where it had fallen open against his will. He wasn’t sure when he started to notice the innuendo in some of the things Daniel said, but now that he was aware of it, talking to the man was far more difficult. 

“Johnny?” 

“Sensei, why is your face red?” 

“When?” he asked into the phone, noticing as he spoke how rough his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. 

He could hear Daniel smiling again. “Tomorrow? 7.” 

“You free tomorrow at 7?” he asked Miguel, who looked at him with wide, confused eyes. 

“We’ll be there,” he said, shushing Miguel with a hand, eyes on the coffee table, listening for Daniel’s response. 

“Good,” Daniel said, satisfied. “It’s a date.”

He hung up before Johnny could respond, but he kept the phone to his ear, spluttering, while Miguel stared at him with a half-smile. 

And now they were here, Johnny quickly realizing that he was probably going to need a beer before he even got to LaRusso’s place if he wanted to keep his cool. Miguel impatiently nudged him out of the way and started flicking through the shirts, making noises under his breath that he couldn’t decipher. Most of them seemed confused, but there were a few scoffs of disbelief in there, too. 

Maybe Johnny should go into his closet and do the same thing, see how the little twerp liked it. 

“Here, wear this one,” Miguel finally said, pulling a baby blue shirt out of the back of Johnny’s closet, so old he’d forgotten it was even there. “It’ll bring out your eyes.” 

“What am I, a girl?” Johnny asked, taking the hanger anyway. 

Miguel chuckled. “No, but you’re in _looooooooove_ ,” he drew the word out, dodging the shirt that Johnny threw at him, trotting down the hallway back to the living room. 

“Get out of my house, Diaz,” Johnny called after him, the boy’s laughter as good a response as he was going to get. 

***

“Dad, I made you some tea,” Sam gently set the cup on the edge of the coffee table, catching Daniel’s eyes on her way back up. “Chamomile.” 

He smiled at his daughter and took the cup. “That’s so nice, sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” he said, taking a shallow sip of the still-too-hot tea. 

“I did,” she laughed. “You’ve been staring into space for like…half an hour. Figured you needed something to calm you down.” 

“Calm me down?” he asked. “I am calm!” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Sure, and your leg is tapping like that because…?” 

He looked down at his jumping leg and put a hand over it. “Habit,” he said with a shrug. 

“Dad,” she took the tea cup from his hands and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Sensei Lawrence is coming here. For a date.” 

He laughed nervously. “It’s not a –”

“I can literally hear all of your phone conversations,” she interrupted with a stern look that reminded him so much of himself. “You’re allowed to be nervous.” 

“Did I tell you that I invited Miguel, too?” he asked. 

“No!” she jumped up from her spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I forgot!” 

“I’m going on a double date with my dad and his arch nemesis,” she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this.” She snatched his cup of tea off the table. “I need this more than you do now,” she said firmly, taking a long drink before stalking off, shutting her bedroom door solidly behind her. 

Daniel understood how she felt. Was it good to be nervous? Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t figure it out, and the longer he sat there, thinking about it, the closer the clock inched toward 7. He thought about Johnny, leaning on him on the surfboard in the middle of the night, head cradled by his arm. He thought about Robby, excited about the possibility of living with his father after sixteen years without him. 

He thought about Johnny under the stream of the shower, chest rising and falling under his hand, eyes clouded, deep in thought. 

They’d almost kissed twice – why was he nervous about the idea of a date? 

“Dad, I’m hungry,” Anthony whined, his voice shocking Daniel violently out of his thoughts. 

“I’m cooking dinner,” Daniel called out, knowing that his son was going to grab some junk food out of the pantry anyway and stalk back up to his room. Amanda was the one who was better at curbing Anthony’s impulsive choices – Amanda, who was in Malibu visiting her parents to tell them about their divorce. 

“Sensei Lawrence is coming to dinner, right?” Anthony asked from behind him, his mouth full. Daniel struggled not to roll his eyes. Trust his son to be predictable. 

“Yes, he is,” he answered, turning in his seat to see his son completely. “Be nice.” 

“I’m _always_ nice.” 

“I seem to remember you telling Johnny that I would kill him,” Daniel recounted. Anthony grinned. 

“That was me being nice,” he said, rummaging in the bag of cheese puffs. “It was a warning.” 

“Be _nicer,_ please,” Daniel pleaded, but he was almost smiling. 

Anthony shrugged. “I’m just trying to protect you, Dad. What if he takes your heart and karate chops it into little pieces?” 

Daniel squinted at him, suspicious. “Quit watching CW shows on Netflix.” 

“Tell Sam to stop watching Riverdale,” Anthony said, still unbothered. 

“Leave the cheese puffs in the kitchen, please,” he called, but Anthony was already halfway up the stairs, the cheese puffs still clutched in his fist. 

***

“If you’re worried about the first kiss, why don’t you just get it over with?” Miguel asked, safely buckled into the front seat of Johnny’s Challenger, flipping through Johnny’s tapes. “Do it first thing.” 

“I didn’t – I didn’t say I was,” Johnny stammered, hands white on the steering wheel. “ _You_ said I was.” 

Miguel shrugged. “You’re easy to read, Sensei.” 

“Shut up, no I’m not.” 

Miguel didn’t look up from the tapes, his finger tapping on top of Guns ‘n’ Roses. “Then why is your face red?” 

“Are you going to play music or are we going to talk about our girly feelings for the whole drive?” 

Miguel pulled free the tape and turned up the volume, leaving Johnny to marinate in his thoughts. As much as he wished he didn’t, Miguel had a point. Would he be able to sit through an entire dinner while he overthought everything that would come after? Would he be able to make the same mistake he made with Ali? 

He was still thinking about it when they pulled up to Daniel’s house and turned off the car. Miguel led the way to the front door, but Johnny could see the lights sparkling on the terrace, near the pool. The table was set and ready for them, the lighting dark and romantic. It seemed almost too pristine for something that was supposed to include him. 

Miguel looked back at him, almost on the doorstep. 

“You alright?” he asked, and Johnny so clearly saw himself, a teenager again, standing on Ali’s doorstep, nervously waiting to be scrutinized by her rich parents, all the while knowing they thought he was more like them than he could ever be. Yet here was Miguel, standing bravely on the doorstep, in a red flannel shirt and jeans, asking if the grown man was okay. 

“I’m fine, Diaz,” he choked out, and Miguel raised his eyebrows at him like he didn’t really believe it and rang the doorbell. 

Sam answered the door, in a yellow dress that Miguel immediately complimented, slipping an arm around her shoulders for a sneaky hug that he managed to get away with before Daniel appeared beside her, sleeves rolled up toward his elbows, a smile already on his face. 

He stepped aside to let Miguel through, offering him a hand to shake that Miguel took easily, and damn, when did that kid get so comfortable in his own skin? Johnny envied him – he wished he didn’t feel like such a kid when Daniel was around. 

“Johnny?” He pulled himself out of his thoughts to find Daniel looking at him curiously, the light of his home behind him illuminating him around the edges. Johnny felt curiously like he was looking at a painting from a museum he’d never think to go into. “Are you coming inside?” 

_Why don’t you just get it over with?_

He reached out for Daniel, pleased when the man offered his hand without question, and yanked him out the front door and onto the porch. 

“What the hell –”

He stumbled farther than Johnny imagined he would, and he caught him against his chest, one hand steadying Daniel around the waist. When Daniel looked up at him, confused and indignant, Johnny slipped his other hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss that no one had enough time to interrupt because if _someone_ interrupted him a third time, he was going to have to throw all of their children and surrogate children into the pool. 

Daniel made a confused sound against his lips, but his hands were clenched tightly in the fabric of Johnny’s shirt, pliant in his arms. Johnny pulled away long enough to see Miguel walking by, who gave him a wide-eyed thumbs up as he eased the front door closed. He rolled his eyes and let Daniel pull him in for another kiss, this one breathless and desperate and not at all like a first kiss. 

He had to force himself to pull away because he was maddeningly aware that the longer they were gone, the more likely it was that they would be interrupted. Daniel was grinning when he pulled back, all teeth and Jersey pomp, his eyes still closed, and Johnny wished he had done this thirty years ago instead of knocking the kid into the sand. They could have had thirty more years. 

“Does that mean you’re coming inside?” Daniel asked, his voice so soft it didn’t even sound like him, and Johnny tilted his head back to plant a kiss on his throat, backing him up so he was against the wall, the mostly closed front door on his left, the light from the kitchen barely illuminating them, the sound of their children a delicate soundtrack. 

“In a minute,” Johnny said, lips still on Daniel’s neck, and Daniel exhaled a shaky breath, dropping one of his hands to Johnny’s forearm, like he needed to be stabilized. 

“Take your time,” Daniel replied, head tilted back to the wall, eyes closed. Johnny pulled back for a moment to take him in, still perfect hair, slightly darker lips, face arranged in an expression he never thought he’d get to see, dazed and happy. 

He pulled him back in, taking great care to run his fingers through Daniel’s hair, feeling rather than seeing the mess of it he was making, Daniel groaning against his lips, thoroughly distracted. Johnny could get used to this – kissing the man to distraction. He made a brief mental note to thank Diaz for the idea later. 

And then Daniel was turning him around so he was pressed to the brick instead and all thoughts of Miguel went out of the window. 

***

“Where did my dad go?” Sam asked, her eyes searching the empty kitchen. “He never leaves the kitchen while he’s cooking.” 

Miguel watched her eyes go to the slightly open front door and linger. He could see the wheels turning there. After a moment’s awkward silence, she gasped. 

“ _No way_.” 

“Maybe don’t go out there looking for him,” Miguel said with a laugh, slipping his arm around her shoulders while he could. 

“Oh my god,” he thought she was angry for a moment, and then he looked down at her, and they both started giggling. “Thank God that finally happened.”

“Thank God what finally happened?” Robby asked, offering a fist for Miguel to bump.

“My dad and your dad are totally making out outside,” Sam said, loud enough that Anthony, sitting in front of the television, turned around to join the conversation. 

“Ugh, Sam, too much information,” Robby groaned, but he grinned anyway. “So which one of us wins the bet?” 

“Bet?” Miguel asked, looking between them. 

“Well, I bet that they would avoid their feelings forever,” Sam said, counting them off on her fingers, “Robby bet that they were already hooking up, which, gross,” Robby shrugged. “And Anthony bet –”

“I bet they’d do some dramatic confessing after dinner,” Anthony grumbled. “So none of us win.” 

“If I’m the one who told Sensei Lawrence to do…” Miguel faltered, trying to find the right word, “what he’s doing…does that mean I win?” 

Sam gaped at him, eyes wide. “Wh – what? What did you do?” 

He shrugged. “I gave him some advice. You know, strike first or whatever,” Miguel laughed. 

“He doesn’t win!” Anthony whined. “He didn’t bet!” 

“Didn’t bet what?” 

All four kids went still, frozen like they’d been doing something far worse than having a conversation. Miguel was the first one of them to turn around, trying to keep the smile off his face. Johnny’s barely concealed smirk told him he wasn’t being as sneaky as he thought he was. 

“Nothing, Sensei,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Are you kids gambling?” Daniel asked, his voice teasing. 

“If I say yes will you fix your hair, please?” Sam asked, hiding a laugh behind her hand. 

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Daniel asked, a hand already rising to smooth it back down. 

“Nothing,” Johnny said hurriedly, biting back a grin. “Nothing, it’s fine.” 

“It looks like sex hair,” Anthony half-shouted from his place on the couch. 

The room went silent. Johnny looked over to Daniel, who looked momentarily horrified before he just closed his eyes and started laughing. The rest of the room looked at each other, Johnny trying to hide a self-satisfied smirk before Daniel shoved him, playful and embarrassed, and everyone else started laughing. 

***

Dinner started out surprisingly successful – Daniel had always expected this dinner to be awkward, with Miguel and Robby at the same table, himself and Johnny watching their kids stumble through conversation, Anthony being antagonistic, as only he could be. 

But Miguel and Robby were fine, chatting amiably while Sam sat between them, happy and at ease. Anthony had his own comments to make, but Johnny handled him nicely, and even he had to admit that he was amused by Johnny’s newest nemesis. When he realized he was losing whatever conversational battle he and Johnny were currently entangled in, he switched to his usual home run shot: 

“My dad could kill you,” he said, but it didn’t have the venom it usually did, when he was saying it to people who might actually believe him. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Your dad is too much of a good guy to actually kill me.” 

Anthony shook his head. “He could still do it. He was a Cobra Kai once.” 

“Anthony!” Sam admonished from across the table. Daniel felt his limbs go numb.

“No he wasn’t,” Johnny laughed, his eyes sliding from Daniel’s son to Daniel himself. Daniel, who felt the blood drain from his face the longer Johnny looked at him. Johnny stared, mouth slightly open. “You weren’t. Right?” 

“Maybe we should go –” Sam was halfway out of her chair already. 

“No, Sam, it’s fine,” Daniel reassured her. “It’s – it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t join Cobra Kai, I trained for a little bit with one of Cobra Kai’s…senseis.” 

“So you joined Cobra Kai,” Johnny finished. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Cobra Kai wasn’t around at the time,” Daniel pointed out. “The guy told me he was Kreese’s sensei, that Kreese was dead, all of that nonsense, and I needed someone to train with for the ’85 All Valley, so –”

“What about –”

“Mr. Miyagi didn’t want me to compete. But I was…” he struggled to find the right word. 

“Blackmailed,” Sam supplied helpfully. “He was blackmailed into competing. Some guy threatened to beat him within an inch of his life every day if he didn’t.” 

“And I needed a trainer,” Daniel finished with a heavy sigh, his eyes on the table. 

“You didn’t tell me you were blackmailed,” Anthony piped up indignantly from the other end of the table. 

“Anthony only thinks Dad joined Cobra Kai because he found the gi in a box one day,” Sam added, eyes on Johnny. “Dad doesn’t…” she looked over at her dad, and then back to him. “Dad doesn’t like to talk about it.” 

Johnny nodded, tightening his jaw. Daniel could see him trying to decide what to do, how to move forward with their kids watching. 

“Then we won’t talk about it,” he said firmly, turning back to his food. He caught Daniel’s gaze and gave him a wan smile. Daniel didn’t know what to make of it. 

He still wasn’t sure what to make of it when dinner was done, and Sam met him at the counter with dishes, muttering that she was going to take Robby, Miguel, and Anthony to Golf ‘n’ Stuff for a little while, knowing that she was trying to give him the privacy to talk to Johnny without any interruptions. He thought about telling her not to; he didn’t want to tell the story, definitely didn’t want to see Johnny’s reaction. Having the kids as a buffer might be good. 

“If you really like him, you’re going to have to tell him eventually,” she said when he didn’t answer, clasping his arm for a moment before ushering everyone outside and into her car. 

He didn’t have to listen hard to hear Johnny’s careful approach. He didn’t have to look to know what he was doing – leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets, eyes on his feet. 

“We still don’t have to talk about it,” he said, and Daniel felt a surge of affection for him that almost knocked him off balance. 

“But you want to know,” Daniel said wearily, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry his hands, turning around to see Johnny completely. He could still see the wrinkles in his shirt where his hands had been clenched earlier.

“Of course I do, LaRusso,” Johnny said. “But I’m not going to force you to tell me.” 

Daniel shrugged. “You already know most of it. Kreese told Terry Silver to make me bleed, to make me suffer for ruining Cobra Kai. And then Kreese appeared, back from the dead, and,” he shrugged, trying to fight the urge to turn away from Johnny’s horrified gaze, “tried to kill me. Typical Kreese.” 

“He made you _bleed_.” It wasn’t a question. 

Daniel held out his hands, knuckles marred with thin scars from the wood. “He succeeded.” 

Johnny took his hands in his own, eyes on the scars. Daniel could feel him shaking with anger. He looked up to his face, tight and stern, the very image of a terrifying fighter. “I know where he lives,” he said, his eyes rising to find Daniel’s. “Kreese.” 

“John, don’t,” Daniel pulled his hands back. “It’s not worth it.” 

Johnny scoffed, pushing himself off from the counter, where he was still leaning, to cage Daniel in with his arms. “It is worth it,” he insisted. “He shouldn’t have blamed you because we left.” 

Daniel shrugged, and Johnny made a disapproving noise. 

“That’s why you hated Cobra Kai so much when I brought it back,” Johnny said thoughtfully. He paused, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t blame you.” He brought one hand up to gently trace the line of Daniel’s jaw. “You didn’t need Terry Silver,” he said. “You’ve always been a great fighter.” 

Daniel stared at him, trying to think of something to say, coming up empty. 

“Terry and Kreese might have made you bleed, but they couldn’t really break you,” he continued, surveying Daniel’s face while still managing to avoid eye contact. “You’re too stubborn for that.” 

Daniel managed a weak laugh, the sound of which relaxed the tense lines of Johnny’s face. “Jersey tough,” he said quietly, and Johnny finally met his gaze, blue eyes full of something Daniel couldn’t really identify. It was painfully soft, overwhelming to look at for too long. 

“Yeah you are,” Johnny said softly.

He pulled him in for a kiss instead of saying something else, frustrated with his son for making tonight too serious, wishing fervently that he could go back to the front step, before they had to discuss their pasts, before Johnny had to fluster him with pretty words.

Johnny lifted him, like he weighed nothing, onto the counter, and dropped his hands to Daniel’s thighs, clearly deciding that he was going to kiss all of his seriousness away. Daniel let him, content to be pulled along by the sensation of his hands, of his lips. But this was unhurried, unlike their time outside the front door, exploratory, a different kind of intoxicating. 

Johnny pulled back, just far enough that Daniel became aware that he was taller than him this way, blue eyes gazing up at him, sparkling in the light. 

And then he sighed, almost like he was exasperated, even while he still looked at him with a fond smile, and pulled him back to his mouth. 

“I love you,” he said against Daniel’s lips, so quiet that Daniel could almost pretend he hadn’t said it at all. 

But he clutched him tighter, holding onto him fiercely, just in case he was thinking of backing away, of hiding. He could feel Johnny laugh against his mouth, the laugh almost a sob, and kissed him deeper, communicating what he was always too afraid to say. 

_I love you too._


End file.
